


The Crimson of Fangs

by Semi_Weird_Shipper



Series: Weirdo's Slasher/Bad Guy Stories [12]
Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bounty Hunters, Death Threats, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Light Romance, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pregnancy, Pregnant Reader, References to Depression, Slow Burn, Suspense, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:42:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27615722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semi_Weird_Shipper/pseuds/Semi_Weird_Shipper
Summary: You're a single, pregnant woman living life peacefully, oblivious to the fact that you have a bounty over your head until a man named Victor Creed finds you, and you're stuck making a hard decision in order of keeping your baby safe. Hopefully Victor is understanding enough to at least give you some credit.(I just wanted to write a sweet story with my favorite bad guy :')
Relationships: Victor Creed/Reader
Series: Weirdo's Slasher/Bad Guy Stories [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1744741
Kudos: 52





	The Crimson of Fangs

**Author's Note:**

> So this story was heavily inspired by [Battle of The Imaginary Minds](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19892938/chapters/47117080). I don't believe there are any warnings I need to give. It's a pretty simple, straightforward story, meant to be suspenseful, angsty and sweet, so... Have fun reading!
> 
> (y/n) - your name   
> (c/n) - codename   
> (d/n) - daughter's name.

Settling down in Canada was supposed to be the getaway card from all the stress, drama and worry your life had suffered through in (country). Being high on the agenda of peaceful, serene countries, you decided once you learnt that you had successfully became pregnant that putting an end to your hostile life and starting a fresh, new slate was significantly in order. No more filthy jobs, rude people or nasty business. You would give up on the illegal work ethics and become a better person.

And you had.

Seven months you had been living in Canada, serving a fine life of calm, peaceful solitude and working a healthy job in a packaging factory. Able to obtain a mortgage loan, you had bought a nice, three bedroom house in the hills that you were still gradually finishing furnishing. Being pregnant was a great inspiration for your change of character and will to do better with your life. Your child wasn't even born yet and you would still do anything to keep her safe, even if it cost you your life.

Sitting at your lone dining table after cooking yourself a small, single dinner, you quietly sit back and listen to the men chatting aimlessly on the radio to your favorite station. It was late in the evening. You had already showered and settled into your nightgown, fully content with the idea of reading a book or possibly watching a short movie before you went to bed. Tomorrow was the beginning day of your long week of work. You weren't particularly excited but you were positive and vibing. At least pay-day wasn't too far away now.

As you were casually listening to the interesting and/or silly conversations over the radio while leisurely eating your food, you hum in surprise, curiosity and confusion when you hear the expressive chime of your doorbell ring twice. Now who could that be at such a late hour? Setting your dinner utensils down on your napkin neatly, you wipe your hands on the table cloth, smooth out your nightgown and make temporary haste for the door. You knew that a plumber was supposed to be scheduled to see why your upstairs toilet wasn't running, but surely such a manner wouldn't be addressed this late? Oh well. This was a different country after all. Who knew what all spontaneous behavior different businesses were to withhold.

Stopping upon the cool mat on the ceramic floor in front of your large, wooden door, you hesitate just a moment before reaching for the lock and door handle. The elegant snaps that greeted you were light and inviting before you opened the door and felt the immediate rush of blistering Northern wind and even tiny freckles of snow. Shivering in exaggeration, you tense up at the intense, freezing temperature and gaze up at the darkly dressed man standing on your porch.

The first thing that stood out about him was the intensity of his height and the broad spectrum of his intimidating build. He was a tank. You blink and take even further notice to his long, scratchy, black trench coat, snow caked work boots, black jeans and strange, silver tube necklace. His face came next; pale but oddly unaffected by the blistering cold wind, his bluish-grey eyes slanted in a manner of interest and what you wanted to assume was possible joy but yet it felt much more... malicious. His short, black hair which like his coat was both soaked and sprinkled with snow.

"Hello," You say politely, body half hidden behind the door to shield you from the cold and act as a barrier if the situation took a drastic turn, "Can I help you?"

"You tell me," He said, his voice deep and focused and nearly surreal like an old western man from the mid-fifties. He tilted his head faintly to the side, his eyes barely noticeably slanting as his lips curved upwards as if he knew a dirty secret, "Are you (c/n)?"

Your eyes widened like the moon springing up in its harvest shine. The name the shady man spoke was not your real name but rather a codename that you had used in your rough, illegal work days; a time when you were paid to point out mutants who wandered the corridors of your small school. At first you hadn't understood what you were clearly associated with, nor did you realize the lives you had helped destroy. Being young and naíve had it's own difficult, unfairness. The so called 'teachers' had manipulated you into a false sense of insecurity, twisted your beliefs, made you think that mutants were bad and out to destroy the world. It wasn't until your last year that you learned through secret friends the truth of the dire matter, but it was too late.

That was when life spiraled downwards and greif soon took over your guilty conscience. You lost your family. They had been murdered. You moved away, started a life of drugs and heavy social distancing. Police had informed you that it was two parents who had slaughtered your family in vengeance for what you helped to do to their child. Whether that was true or not, you did not know, but felt traumatized for anyway. You'd never forget about that experience. It was absolutely devastating.

And the fact that someone still remembered such a time and your name and your location was all kinds of triggering. Alarms set off like fireworks inside your head as you blink numbly at the large man before you. His expression began to melt away into full malicious intent now as he noticed your harbored panic hidden beneath your dumbfounded facade. And at that you slammed the door shut and slid the lock back in place in such a pace that made your heart race like an infinite drum.

Turning around, you ran like lightning up the stairs, quickly shredding off your nightgown on the way. Skidding to a stop in your bedroom doorway, you slam the door shut and lock it before making a beeline to get to your pants and shirt that you had graciously left in the dirty clothes basket in the corner of the room. Feeling like a targeted deer, you rush to put on your pants and shoes while shakily grabbing your home phone from your nightstand. With the manner of which you trembled, it took three times to properly dial "911". By then you were slipping on your jacket and breathing frantically, your large belly beating in earnest as you feel tears of panic briskly sting your eyes.

"911. What is your emergency?" Said an irritatingly patient woman from the other end.

"There's a man in my house," You state in a forced whisper that was heavily tampered by your irregular breathing. Gazing around fearfully, you hold back a shout of terror when you heard the downstairs door being slammed open with such force you imagined there was possibly now a hole in the wall, "Please... He just broke in. I don't know what he wants and I'm pregnant and I-I don't know what to do."

"Please stay calm, miss. What is your location?"

You hastily wander over to the window, fingers grown so clammy from holding the phone that you had to swap hands while unhinging the window locks. As you did so, you relay your information to the annoyingly calm woman who then stated that help was on the way, you needed to stay calm and try not to hang up. "Please, I have a baby," You whine, eyes now thoroughly overwhelmed with moisture as you forced open your window as quietly as you possibly could.

Whilst the emergency responder tried to keep you calm, you hung up the phone on her and sat the device under your bed as soon as you heard a toying knock on your bedroom door. Creeping over to the outward-slide window, you hold your belly safely as you carefully squeeze yourself out of the tight crevice. It was difficult with the way you awkwardly had to maneuver with your large belly taken under consideration, but you soon found yourself successfully outside in the bitter, winter air. Struggling to feign balance on the steep wood of the roof, you find traction on the freshly fallen snow and carefully turn to quietly shut the window. Luckily the intruder hadn't entered your room yet. It would give you time to get away.

To better lessen the chances of harm, you struggle to sit down on your bottom while carefully scooting down the roof. The arch to your porch was close. If you could ease down it and carefully stand up straight, you could descend down to one of the stone pillars that decorated either side of the entryway. Fingers growing tense and frigid from the cold air, you softly whimper and breathe out frantic breaths as you meet the arch of your porch roof, the warm steam of your breath tragically forgotten in the harsh blow of winter wind.

Holding onto the edge of the arched roof, you carefully scoot your feet down until you were able to awkwardly stand alongside the slanted roofing. Snow clumped and fell all around you, and you could only hope that the intruder didn't immediately look outside and see your snow imprints on the roof. After you were to the drop off point, you lift out one foot and fight hard not to tremble while carefully moving down to set it on the stone pillar. After twisting your foot around, you turn towards the roof, grab ahold of the edge and watch yourself cautiously while sliding off your other foot.

As soon as you found stable footing, you grabbed onto the wooden wall of your house's entryway and scoot back far enough until you could properly kneel down and hop off the pillar. Looking inside, you noticed that the man had literally broken your door, the knob being completely smashed off and abandoned on the snowy ground. And you had just gotten this house six months ago...

Shaking your head in misfortune, you turn around and ran for your car, quickly going to unlock it only to realize in a moment of terror that you didn't have your keys. Gasping, you shoot your attention to the bedroom window in memory of where you had left the important trinkets and feel your body jump at the large figure you saw smirking back at you. Sobbing in fear, you decide to run away towards the overwhelmed woods in hopes of either losing the large intruder or making it to town before he caught up to you. Whether or not he decided to kindly take the stairs or bust out your window was a mystery but knowledge enough to give you bare encouragement at the fact that you had some time on your side.

The cops wouldn't be here on time. You lived too far out in the woods to be reached before any insane damage was done. But you weren't going to writhe too strongly in your hopelessness. There were tales of people who had ran miles in the snow without any shoes on. And while you were definitely not dressed to impress or challenge the winter storm, you had the main basics that truly mattered, and you would run until your lungs collapsed of either freezing hysteria or the inability to pump oxygen properly.

Once you began to run past the snow covered trees, you curse the damp, moisturized ground and slow your pace to avoid tripping or slipping on ice. Thankfully the wind was somewhat muffled through the thick layers of white spruce trees, allowing you to breathe easier. Your nose, fingers and ears were freezing numb, and your eyes were burning from the below freezing air. Desperately you hoped that this terrible experience wouldn't harm your baby, you whimpered while placing a secure hand over your stomach.

Zig-zagging around the sporadic maze of spruce trees, you take a moment to look behind you to see if the frightening beast of a man was still chasing after you. From what you saw, however, you feel your heart ping with hope that maybe he hadn't followed you or was at least a good distance behind you. There was only so little space the thick bearing of trees allowed you to get a feel of knowledge from. Somewhat boosted with hope, you were able to keep going at a minor brisk pace.

But pain in your stomach stopped you.

Choking back a pained wail, you skid to a stop and hold your stomach, cheeks bulging out as you force yourself not to make too much noise as your stomach ached tremendously with pain. Using a random pine tree for leverage, you hunch over and hiss a whimper. Ligament pressure, you concluded with a small, irrepressible wail, your legs giving out as you sank to your bottom. Leaning back against the tree, you protectively hold your stomach while trying to maintain a steady breathing rate.

The pains came in rhythmic waves, each one lasting only a few seconds but being extreme enough to cause you to ground out a small noise of distress each time. Damn it. You feel your frosted eye-lashes grow watery from the aid of your tears as you pant, lungs beginning to frighteningly ache. You sob lightly, so afraid of what was to happen now that you were stranded, alone and completely vulnerable to the natural pain coming from the very treasure you were trying to protect.

The sound of crunching snow became a dropping anchor of unfortunate knowledge inside your freezing chest.

You squint your eyes in sadness and pain when you see the unmistakable silhouette of the large intruder slowly approaching from behind a group of spruce trees. Holding your stomach, you curl your knees close to your chest and sob softly. The patterns your body had drawn in the crunchy snow beneath you would soon be splattered in crimson, and as time went by, it would melt and be forgotten. Tears streamed down your eyes as more ligament pains caused your body to jerk in startlment.

"Please..." You whine when you sensed the man standing still just a meter before you, his intimidating build a towering mass above you, "Please... d-dont hurt her..."

You hissed as another uncontrollable pain racked your body, causing you to cringe heavily. You suck in a strangled breath to try and calm yourself as the moment washed over you and allowed you to pant in minor recovery. "Not my baby... P-please." You beg, holding your large belly as much as you could. 

"You've got quite a fortune on your head," You hear him say, mouth parted in continuation of your desperate panting as you point your cold tear infested eyes at him, "An' I ain't one for missin' a chance at gettin' paid good."

"Please," You whine as you drag your freezing palms over your belly, "L-let me have her... I-I'll do whatever y-you want, just please... Let me have her first."

As you watch the man through cold, blurred vision, your chest heaving with desperate icy breath as more ligament pains drowned your body, you see him gaze down at your stomach. Slowly you lower your legs to show him the proof of how far along you were. "I-hss..." You hiss in pain before grinding your chittering teeth together, "I'm almost eight months... You can have anything you want... My house, c-car- anything... Just let me have her."

"An' what'a ya plan on doing with her once she's born?" He asked, his voice calm although it held a fine level of challenge there as well.

You close your eyes as more pain flooded your body, tears halting as last chance hope sat like a dim beacon on your shoulders. "A-adoption," You sputter in a sad croak of despair, "At least then she'll be safe..."

"An' you'll let me have ya? No fuss?" The man interjected rather quickly.

You nod your head and sigh shakily, "No fuss..."

There was a pause. A long, ear popping, mouth drying, eye crusting pause. Even the silence echoed as the very wind stopped blowing in your high anticipation. You stared beggingly at the debating man, hoping with all your heart that he reconsidered whatever horrid, nightmarish plans he had in mind for you. The battle of suspense continued on for minutes. Such silence gave the snow a crisp, clattering noise as it hit the ground.

You gasped whenever the large man finally did make a move, kneeling down so fast that it made you flinch back in retaliation. You didn't even have time to draw your knees up as he crouched in between them and lifted out his large hand. Body shaking like a leaf, you pant while gazing from his somewhat serious, somewhat malicious expression to his presented hand. He merely continued to stare you straight in the eyes while slowly growing his long, sharp and deadly bone claws out.

You gasp at the sight of them, now understanding that this was undoubtedly a mutant. It was unclear if whether or not he was associated with any of the tattling you had done in your spry youth, but his desire for getting the money threw the assumption off balance. Body twisted in pain, fear and cold despair, you flinch once again as those claws moved closer to your face. "No..." You murmur, eyes squinting in fear, "Please no..."

Expecting a rain of nasty slashes or puncture wounds, you clench your eyes shut and tense up in anticipation, softly gasping in surprise when all you felt were blunt finger tips gripping your chin lightly. Timidly opening your eyes, you stare at the man who bore nothing but a look of pure, serious business.

"Ya got until this kids born till I take ya in and kill ya, got it?" He said in his strict voice, fingers gently tilting your head up, waiting for your nod of understanding, "Till then I ain't leavin' your side."

"Ok..." You whisper softly in agreement and nod your head, relief filling your body in unfathomable amounts as he pulled away and stood up.

"Get up, tell them damn cops off," He demanded in his more relaxed, elite tone as he turned in the opposite direction of your house, "Leak a word about me and you're dead on the spot, got it?"

"Y-yes," You whisper brokenly in relief and fear as you hold your still cramping stomach. You watch half heartedly as the large man began to slowly walk away as if nothing had happened. You were thankful for his cooperation, truly you were, but that didn't stop the dread from taking over your strongly heightened alertness. You just agreed to giving up your life, granted for your baby girl, but still... You were going to feel disoriented and greatly despaired. 

"I'll be back," Was the last thing you heard him say that night before you hobbled back to your house and informed the police that you had lost the intruder and had no idea where he went. They searched your house and helped you to somewhat repair the front door before leaving an hour later. In that time you changed clothes and warmed up, desperately trying to keep calm as you wondered when that beast of a man would return and what he would do.

* * *

  
It was no surprise that the next morning you were wide awake and sitting in your living room, eyes darkened with desire for rest that you neglected to get. Simply put; you were too anxious to sleep. How could you when the man out to get your head was supposed to be showing up some time today to stock or watch or guard- or whatever it was he wanted to do with you? Last night had been no friendly walk in the park either. Despite getting away with nothing other than the winter time chills, you were very emotional and mentally disorganized.

The whole time you tried to sleep, you tossed and turned, eyes wide open and gazing at nothing in particular as you drifted off into a disgusting, pitiful daze of life reflection. The happiness, pain, success and defeat that you had experienced in your time on earth seemed to course through your body like nostalgic phantoms. Memories sprang up of conversations and activities, all of which you did and didn't enjoy.

It was like knowing that you were going to die soon put you on the literal edge where you could now see your own blood spatter on the snowy ground. Just two months was all you had left. Two months wasn't enough time to do everything you wanted to do. There were so many things, so many options, and yet you were giving up on it all. Did you really have an option? Probably not. There were definitely a few professional actions you could make, but you were terrified about taking a chance of losing your baby. Dreams, desires, wants and wishes were overwhelmed with the deep love and devotion you felt for her. Not even born her life mattered more than a thousand suns.

Sorrow was the most overpowering emotion. You'd already lost count on how many tears had slipped out and how long you had broke down from time to time. It was an infinite pain and your pregnancy did little to help you contain yourself. You were going to be killed. You'd never get to see your daughter- your only family- grow up happy and healthy. You would never get to sit and read and color and sing, or teach her how to walk and talk and laugh. It was all just a fantasy now.

As you sat on the couch, curled up underneath a small, gentle blanket, you feel yourself beginning to cry for what felt like the hundredth time. Staring blankly at the muted TV, you watch the cartoons playing and imagine the sensation of having your daughter there with you. Would she like this show? You wondered with a dejected sniffle.

Two rings from your doorbell caused you to stare blandly at the front entrance like a disappointing performer. Obviously that must be the mutant man. Standing up from the couch, you use the blanket to wipe your tear streaked face before sniffing and heading over to the door. Lacking any hesitancy, you unlock and open the door, not completely surprised to learn that your intuition was correct.

"You gonna let me in the right way this time?" You hear him ask and couldn't help but to formulate a small glare of disgust at him. Shaking your head, you pull open the door the rest of the way and step back, arms going to wrap around yourself protectively.

"So how are we going to do this?" You force yourself to ask without stuttering in fear, eyes stuck upon the welcome mat on the ceramic floor.

The man invited himself in and sighed, his eyes gazing around the living room as if it were the first time he were seeing it, "Nice place you got."

"Thanks. Please answer my question," You say in a very flat, almost monotonous manner, frustrated by his unsatisfactory behavior.

"Patience, darlin', remember I gotta wait two months before I get what I'm after," He stated, lifting his hand out towards you as if you were some vicious, rabid animal. 

"And I'm thankful for that," You ground out, fists clenched tightly at your sides as you stand a far ways from him, watching as he went further into your tidy living room, "I just want to know how much freedom I have... This place doesn't pay for itself and I have a job."

"By all means, keep your job," The man stated casually as he examined the small amount of furniture and decorations you had set up, "Someone's gotta pay rent 'round here."

"So..." You feel yourself starting to shake in mixed emotions, "Does that mean you're staying?"

"Mhm," The man nodded like it was no big deal, his eyes tracing the boring ceiling before falling upon your meek, cowering form, "Might be gone most'a the time, but I trust ya won't go back on your word... Will ya, darlin'?"

"No," You shake your head while trying to avoid his intense stare, index finger gesturing in the direction of the hallway, "Down there is the guest bedroom."

While it was a minor relief to know that he might not be around that much, you still felt like you were signing a long contract to giving up your whole life to this massive, terrifying freak. His presence in mind alone was already overwhelming. You didn't believe that you could handle him being around all the time. Who knows what the full extent of his attitude was like. 

The man gazed briefly in the area you pointed, his head tilting in confirmation. "Names Victor," He stated, eyes blinking once before landing on your lightly trembling figure, "You got a job 'round here, (c/n)?"

"It's (y/n)," You softly correct, more on the contrary side of your real name rather than the obtrusive code one, "I work at the packaging factory in Low."

The rude, frightening, beastly man who you've now learned likes to be adressed as "Victor" smiled at you, and oh, what a smile it was. Two sharp, glistening fangs mirrored your fate and fright as you continue to try and avoid looking at him, body slowly shying away further into the living room. "I thought they forbid fillies from workin' this far 'long?"

That... Wasn't really something you'd expect him to be at all interested in. Your life in general shouldn't be a concern that mattered to anyone greedy enough to want to slaughter you effortlessly for money and their own personal benefits. Perhaps he was just making a mockery of your disheveled efforts as a lone, single, pregnant woman. "I guess they don't care," You shrug, fingers digging tightly into your arms as you stare at the floor in front of the couch.

Victor nodded his head once and took another brisk glance around the room before slowly heading back towards the door. "I'll be back soon, darlin'," He stated in his more decently calm voice, eyes giving you a steady gaze, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Ok..." You whispered, throat knotted up with twisted emotion as you nod quickly at him, eager for his disappearance, "I won't."

With that Victor turned around and left out your door. After rushing over to lock it, you immediately collapse against the wall as annoying tears yet again spilled from your swollen eyes. You wheeze a few times in utter pain from the guilt, misfortune and sadness, your heart pounding dreadfully in hurt and anticipation. Two months being spied on by some illusive, giant, greedy beast who's full intentions were still not completely uncovered. Two months of preparing for your baby... Two months of preparing to die.

* * *

Victor must not have been lying when he mentioned you not seeing him most of the time. Yesterday you had taken a day off from work in order of collecting your nerves and maintaining a healthy mindset. Almost all day you had been sitting quiet, heavily anticipating the man's return. Yet he never came. Total exhaustion forced you to get more decent sleep last night and inspired you to go to work today. The temptation to tell someone about your situation was as decisive as wanting to spill a government secret. You wanted to tell somebody so that maybe you had a chance of saving your own life, but the risk was too dangerous and you wouldn't take a chance losing your baby.

The night ended the same. Victor-less. You oddly wonder where he could be as you made dinner and read over some children's books you had bought a few weeks back in preparation for your baby. The whereabouts of the mutant weren't as important as preparing a long, hard note for your daughter was. For a while you sat at the dinner table with an abused pen and scratch paper, palming your head tiredly while trying to come up with something intelligent and careful to write down. You wanted her to know that you hadn't abandoned her, that her life should be lived happily and safely, and that she was loved more than anything in the whole wide world.

Yet everything you were able to jot down just came out twisted, wrong and sad, and you ended up crumbling the papers into hard balls before chucking them at the wall in frustration, sadness and loss of hope. There was nothing you could say that would ever explain enough how much you loved her and wanted to be there for her. No matter what you wrote down, it would never, ever be enough.

You spent the rest of the night un-bothered and alone. Whether you should be worried or thankful that the hitman hadn't been showing up, you did not know. Driven by exhausting emotions and lack of sleep from the previous night, you collapsed on the bed right after you put your nightgown on. You knew it wasn't healthy to sleep with your hair still wet from the shower, but you just couldn't help it. Having massaged the underside of your large belly for a few minutes, it didn't take long to fall asleep curled up under the covers.

And soon night breathed life into dawn.

You were able to wake up, go to work and even do a little shopping before coming home and making dinner. And this time, the man did show up. His two little knocks on your front door nearly made you drop your bowl of soup as you were heading to the dining table. Drastic hope that maybe he had forgotten about you deflated and you were sighing out in sorrow for his return. After sitting down your bowl, you quickly opened the door with a nervous lip bite, eyes unable to look up at your massive, soon-to-be murderer.

"Welcome back," You swallow a lump in your throat, not necessarily trying to be polite but willing enough to pretend to satisfy your annoying curiosity and irritation.

Victor walked inside, his whole outfit covered in snow. There was even a large pile lying on the clear concrete outside as if he had actively brushed the snow off before knocking. Had he really walked that far in this weather? "Good to be back," Victor mumbled in his deep western tinted voice as he gazed around, his nostrils visibly flexing in response to the smell of your cooking.

Shutting and locking the door, you quickly move far away from him, body on the edge of trembling in discomfort as you wander near the kitchen table. "Where you been?" You ask, voice not expressing too much interest nor too much discontent.

Would engaging in conversation help with anything? Probably not, but you didn't know what else to say or do now that he was here inside your home, slowly maneuvering around and what looked to be sniffing the air like some watch dog that had picked up on a strange but uncertain scent. With his dangerous presence now lurking inside the dissipated safety of your house, you oddly wonder how things were to work out. Fret welled up inside you at the thought of him being a controlling, rude tyrant who took over your belongings and forced you to do things you possibly weren't comfortable with.

"Strip club," Victor answered in such a casual way that it made you pause and blink a few times.

Gazing down at the table, you flutter your lashes and try to take his blunt admittance seriously. Ok... "That's nice," You say somewhat politely as you continue to stare at your very interesting dining table, "Did you have fun?"

Victor seemed to growl lowly in what you wanted to assume was dissatisfaction, but the growl itself was too inhuman to professionally read. A part of you almost wanted to ask him if he ate cooked meat or raw meat. Did he know what dogman was by any chance?

"They weren't worth the fifty bucks," Victor stated, his ominous blue eyes tracing over your hesitant form.

You feel your face tug into a flat, fake smile as you pull your chair out from under the table, fingers knuckle white as you tightly grip the wood. "I'm sorry to hear that... Maybe here you can treat yourself to something homemade that's free."

"That what I'm smellin'?" Victor smirked and slowly began to walk closer to you.

You pucker your lips while desperately trying to ignore his intimidating presence, but it was too great. Remembering the pointed sharpness of his fangs and claws, plus the overwhelming mass of his body itself, you couldn't help but to be disoriented and frightened. Automatically you feel your muscles tense, skin breaking out in anonymous goosebumps as you sense his presence just feet away from your fragile, delicate body.

"I made soup," You softly say, voice nearly stolen and turned raw from the fear pounding inside your chest. While you had become a very independent individual with willpower and spite, you couldn't help but to shrivel up like a tiny, scared puppy. What else could you do besides express your politeness and submission when you had precious cargo brewing with golden life inside you? "Would you like some... maybe?" You whisper and grow the nerve to look into his eyes.

Victor was smiling. Not smirking. Just smiling. His eyes were rather gentle compared to the maliciousness they usually glowed with, and they held a certain amount of curiosity inside them. His lips were curved, but not in the way of instilling fear and intimidation. To put it frankly you weren't sure what he was thinking or expressing. It was the first time you had ever witnessed him look so considerate and invested in a way that didn't scream murder.

"I think I'd like that very much, little darlin'," He said with a small head tilt, his smile broadening in satisfaction at your widened eyes.

Nodding quickly and shakily, you release a hot sigh through your nostrils and make a one-eighty degree turn to get to your cabinet. At least he wasn't being particularly mean or abusive. The bittersweet nicknames would be hard to get used to. You blink drastically as you grabbed a ceramic bowl from your cabinet and went to fill it up with soup for the tenacious beast. Hopefully he appreciated the fact that there wasn't any meat. Grabbing a spoon from a drawer, you waltz back over to the dining table, set the bowl on the opposite side of yours and scatter back to your seat.

You weren't looking for any kind of praise or appreciation for your cooking. You never had anyone to cook for in the past. Although content with being put out, you felt a small wave of self insecurity and wonder at actually having someone to offer food to. The only aspect that was taking away the full joy of the moment was the fact that your guest was your hitman. You level down your shaking as you sit, hands dragging across the softness of your night-wear in an attempt at relaxation.

Victor turned around in the direction of the bowl you had made him and pulled his arms back to slip off his coat. Your head lifted in awe as his bare arms and tight, black t-shirt greeted your widening eyes. Your lips gaped as you stare at his slightly pale, flawless skin. His stomach wasn't the spitting image of ripped but it was firm and soft and surprisingly pleasant to look at. You weren't dull. You had admitted he was attractive from the moment you first seen him. It was just difficult to properly admire him when he was the person who was going to kill you and destroy the life you had dreamt up with your daughter.

As he began to turn to sit down, you flash your eyes back to your bowl and lightly stir the spoon around. You had made this mainly for the healthy food arrangement, and while you thought it tasted nice you weren't too sure about your house guest. It didn't really matter, you supposed. He was strange and suspenseful, but what else was new?

You ate in fog thick silence. To draw your attention away, you started to write or at least pretend to write down notes on your disorganized scratch paper, trying to come up with some decent things to say to your daughter. The burn from Victor's sharp, malicious eyes was like a razor scraping gently across your frail skin. One slip up and you were afraid he would pounce.

"Why'd ya buy these?" You heard him ask all the sudden.

Looking up from your scratch paper, you see the large man holding an unwrapped plush toy that had been sitting by a bunch of toddler books at the end of the table. Heat rose to your face in anger at him for touching your personal belongings, but seeing him gently set the toy back down calmed your nerves. "I don't know... I just like the sensation I guess," You mutter lowly, your heart aching with dissapointment, "At least some of it I can pass on to (d/n) once I'm gone..."

Victor rose a brow at you, his face lacking any kind of smile or devious intent. You roll your shoulders and look back to your scratch paper, tears once again threatening to take over your eyes, "I'm going to my room."

Standing up, you quickly gather your scratch paper and a couple books into one arm and grab your bowl with the other. You definitely weren't finished eating, and you weren't about to burst out into hormone crazy tears in front of your hitman. Rude or not, you left the man after sniffing lightly and saying, "Help yourself to as much as you want."

And you were walking briskly up the stairs to get to your bedroom, locking yourself inside. In there you shed your tears, ate your soup and read some toddler books while cradling your thick belly. You stayed up there for quite a while, debating never going back downstairs ever again, but you had to take a shower and you had to put the soup in the fridge. Ugh. Maybe you should just run away again.

After gathering your empty bowl, you quickly walked back downstairs and notice that Victor was sitting on your couch watching TV, his right hand holding a cigar. At least he found a way to occupy himself. You avoid looking in his direction as you grab his empty bowl from the table and take them to the sink. Once you grabbed a clean plastic container, you feel yourself freeze at noticing how empty your pot of soup was. He must have taken your offer hefty because there was now less than half the pot remaining.

Biting your lip, you curse yourself for blushing in faint amusement and flattery as you carefully pour the remaining contents of the pot into the tub. With just you alone you usually ended up with a completely full container of left overs that even in three days you could barely finish half of. With just one person and so much food it was difficult to eat so much, and you couldn't help the fact that you loved cooking so much. To think that someone else actually enjoyed your cooking was a first time feeling that made your heart flutter. Well.... He could have just been desperate too.

Shaking your head, you slip the container into the fridge, make yourself a drink and quickly go back upstairs. Whether Victor seen you or not was unimportant. Just as long as he stayed down there and minded his own business. Some demented part of you was starting to believe that he wasn't all that bad and would be patient enough to stick it through until you had your baby. Sad as it was to be thankful for that... you were.

* * *

As the first month went by, you saw very little of Victor and a lot of missing left overs and dinner. The most he ever showed himself was around the time you made dinner, and that was about three to four times a week. Conversation between the two of you was brief and short and usually cut off by you excusing yourself for whatever reason you could accurately come up with at the time. Victor never complained about anything and gave you your space and privacy to which you were greatly thankful for.

It wasn't until the second month began that Victor began to stick around more often. Little did you know that he had been studying you closely. It wasn't every day that Victor found a victim who he had let live willingly, nor had he found one who was willing to die. Granted he could understand that you were being brave for your baby, but he had to admit it was just plain sad to see you buying baby clothes, books and toys only to stack them up in the empty bedroom upstairs where you would some times sit for hours alone, imagining the sensation of being with your child.

Victor wasn't giving you the naked eye, but he was always open to figuring you out. His interest grew when he noticed that you were a hard, dedicated worker who when even pregnant toughened through the job day by day. You paid your bills, even though it probably wouldn't be a big deal if you skipped some of them, and you cooked more than expert dinner every night. Victor also noticed that you always cooked in your pajamas or long nightgowns. A habit that was as endearing as it was arousing. That's why he started to come to your house more early; so that he could watch you walk around and cook and work.

At times you were brave enough to sit on the couch as he took refuge in the recliner, and he'd watch out of the corner of his eye as you massaged the underside of your large belly. Your ligament pains were getting spry. Today was the day you were going to the doctor to have it checked out.

"You know... It's just an ultrasound," You sway gently in front of the door, purse held timidly in your hands as you gaze off to the side, "You don't have to come with me..."

Victor stood before you, his large body just a couple feet away. The smell of fruity cigar smoke and his own favorite cologne wofted into your nose. You had to fight back a small whimper of pleasntry. He had bought a new dark brown, leather jacket which fit his winter facade perfectly, you thought, much better than the old trench coat. At least now you felt less exposed around him.

"An' what if I said I wanna go?" Victor rose an eyebrow at you, and you blink in confusion.

Over the month Victor had seemingly stopped trying to overwhelm you with devious smirks and hard stares. Anymore he was neutral and solid, simply giving you a small smile from time to time when you addressed certain topics. Never before had he wanted anything specific, especially not to go with you to the doctors office. It seemed kind of silly considering the fact that he was the one who was going to kill you. You almost wanted to tell him this in a very bleak, sarcastic voice, but the tiny fleck of forbidden flattery in your heart made you bite your cheek nervously.

Your hitman. Not your hitman. It still didn't stop you from feeling the content deep inside at the fact that you had someone around who liked your cooking and gave you minor company. It had been way too long since you had anyone close to you, and not in the bad way. Oh, who knows. Maybe this was a bad way, maybe it wasn't. You were going to be killed no matter what so might as well enjoy what little you had left to appreciate in life, even if it was your killer.

"I guess you can come with me," You say softly, fingers going to brush the newly replaced door handle, "I'll also have to stop by the store..."

"Fine by me," Victor said casually and followed you outside.

You shivered instantly. It wasn't snowing today but it was freezing. Hastily you grab your jacket and breath heavily into it, bolting to your car after locking the door. Victor wasn't as phased as you were and enjoyed your cute reactions to the cold. By the time he got to your car, he wasn't surprised to see that you had already started the vehicle and had put the heater on full blast. You were so adorable. He masked a chuckle as he climbed in.

You take a minute to allow the car to warm up before taking off, trying to ignore the awkward tension of having a giant, mutant beast in the car with you. Why had he decided that he wanted to go to the doctor with you? What was the point? You question a great many things as you complete the forty minute long drive into town. Victor hadn't said much besides asking you how you liked it in Canada. So strange...

When you made it to the doctors office, Victor took the liberty of going in with you. Now sitting beside him in the car was alright, but sitting beside him in the cramped waiting room was a whole other level of personal space invasion. Your thighs were squished together and if it hadn't been for you holding your hands in your lap you'd both be hitting elbows. Flustered, you gaze around at the full waiting room and see two women around your age staring at the man beside you, their eyes filled with flirtation and bashfulness. You blink numbly at them, watching as they whispered and giggled to one another while looking at Victor.

You ended up taking a peek at the man's face to see what his reaction was only to lock eyes. Your heart nearly jumped into your throat and you jerk in light startlment. "Ya nervous?" He asked.

You release a small breath and gaze down at your belly, hands smoothing over it as you say softly, "A little... I just hope these ligament pains aren't anything serious."

"Ya had one'a these tests taken before?" He asked and gazed down at your swollen belly. He had witnessed you suffering ligament pains before and had to admit himself that it was a little concerning how often it happened.

You nod your head and explain, "Many times... I just get so worried-I can't help it... I'm sure the docs probably tired of seeing me all the time, ha!" You laugh stupidly and shrug at not getting any reaction other than bland eyes from the large man.

"You're jus' being protective," Victor tilted his head and gazed back at the wall, "I don't see anything wrong with that."

You stare up at him with that same awe coursing through your veins. Victor was normally blunt, honest and straightforward, but some times he could say the most random, shocking things, things that you didn't understand but yet felt flattered about anyways. Turning your head away to hide a blush, you couldn't be more thankful than when the nurse popped in and called your name.

They pulled you into a small office and had you lie back on a not so comfortable cot where they drew a curtain after letting Victor in. "Are you the father?" The doctor asked happily.

You feel your face flare and shake your head, "Oh no, he's..."

"Boyfriend," Victor smiled charmingly, giving your gawking face a small wink.

"Well it's lovely of you to join us today," The doctor exclaimed politely before looking to you, "Well Mrs. (y/n), what seems to be the trouble this time, love? Still ligament pains?"

"Yeah, I just wanna make sure she's okay," You explain, feeling somewhat silly for coming up here so often but simply not being able to help it.

Thankfully your doctor was very kind and patient. "I understand plenty, love," She nodded and grabbed a familiar tube from the cabinet, "Lie back for me and let's have us a look."

Doing as she instructed, you lie back and pull your shirt up to expose your large, bulgy belly, uncontrollably blushing at the fact that Victor was here looking at it. You sigh as the doctor spread the undeniably cold gel across your stomach before powering up the monitor and grabbing the transducer to firmly press against your bulging skin.

"Alright, let's see what we got going on," The doctor said confidently as she watched the screen, "Looks like she's starting to show."

You grin in awe and endearment while watching the monitor, staring in wonderment at the black and white video that popped up. Your baby girl. You smile and feel your eyes water, your heart so happy to see how big she had become since the last time. "She's so beautiful," You breathe, fingers struggling not to touch your belly.

"Mhm, she's a healthy one," The doctor smiled in content before explaining, "The ligament pains you're getting are mostly likely from the excessive growth lately. She's definitely a lot bigger than the last time you visited."

"I had hoped so," You sigh in relief, body going slack. 

"Just to be safe though..." The doctor grabbed her stethoscope and comfortably set the ear pieces before pressing the cold end to your belly, "Hmm..."

"What's wrong?" You ask, eyes going anxiously wide.

The doctor listened to your belly before moving up to your chest. "Well love..." She pulled a tight face before removing her stethoscope and transducer, "Here, let's try this."

"Is my baby alright?" You ask worrirdly as she grabbed a blood pressure cuff and began attaching it around your arm.

"Yes, your baby is fine. It's just your heart rate is a little above average. I wanna check your blood pressure real quick and see if it's the same way," The doctor explained and began to squeeze the bump.

You hold your breath, thankful that your baby was alright but confused about the situation with your blood pressure. Hopefully it wasn't anything serious. You twitch at feeling something touch your free hand and look down in time to see Victor's large, claw-restricted fingers curling gently around your own. Gasping softly, you look up at him and see him smiling the tiniest little bit, a comforting resemblance of patience leveled in his calm expression. Releasing a breath you hadn't known you'd been holding, you relax back into the cot and give his finger tips a light squeeze of appreciation. It was nice to have someone here with you.

"Well love, your blood pressure is a little on the high side," The doctor explained and removed the suffocating cuff from your upper arm, "And that's not usually a good sign during pregnancy. Luckily you're almost at your limit so we can risk early arrival should your blood pressure continue to stay this high."

"I don't understand," You say softly, "Why would my blood pressure be so high?"

"Well high levels of sodium of course, sleep apnea, not getting enough exercise, alcohol, drugs, poor diet, stress and a few influencing diseases- which I don't believe you have," She explained and put away the blood pressure cuff, shrugging lightly, "And some times folks just have high BP. It's not something that can always be controlled. Perhaps you just came on a stressful day, you know? But I would like you to come back within a week or two so we can check it again, alright love?"

"Alright, yes, I understand," You nod, hand tightening around Victors, "Thank you so much."

"My pleasure, love," Then the doctor helped you to clean up, asked you a few more questions and provided information before bidding you both a good day.

* * *

It was after that day that Victor became closer to you, always going with you into town and joining you in the living room after you came home from work. No longer did he stay gone for too long on his anonymous journeys, and although you didn't quite understand why he was deciding to stick around more often recently, you weren't going to try and complain any time soon. Just a few more weeks and your baby would be born and you would have your life stolen from you. It was only natural that you seek comfort from someone willing enough to be around you. It might not be the most healthy relationship, but it was the best and last you would ever have.

One night after you had suffered a long, hard, cold day of work, Victor cornered you in the hallway before you were able to trot upstairs. "Ya plan on cooking tonight?" He asked in his leisurely tone, eyes more suspicious than curious as he towered over you.

Nervously shifting more weight from one foot to the other, you bit your lip and nod, saying softly, "yes."

"Don't," Victor suddenly demanded in a light mumble that made you blink in confusion and surprise.

"But... I have to-"

"I'll order somethin' from town," He cut you off like the ordeal was more than simple to rearrange, "In the meantime I want ya to do somethin' for me."

"Umm... ok," You say in a small, unsure voice, your stature doing little to hide your obvious nervousness.

"After ya shower, I want ya to put this on," Victor explained and suddenly lifted out a small set of clothes from behind his back.

You blink in shock and gaze down at the silky, black clothes and hesitantly reach out to take them. The moment you felt the light material come into contact with your worn fingers answered the off question that this was most certainly a pajama set. You had seen sets like this before. Usually just a silky pair of shorts and a matching tank-top. You had a pair like it but never got around to wearing it on account of possibly either displeasing or pleasing your temporary guest.

You wondered why he wanted you to wear something like this now. Why had he even bought you this was an even bigger question. What was he plotting? He even mentioned getting food for you. Was that true?

"Ok, I... I'll put it on," You nod, terribly unsure about what to think of this bewildering situation. Looking up at him, you feel your cheeks darken in embarrassment and uncertainty as you nod and turn back towards the stairs, "Be right back..."

The shower felt as if it didn't last long enough. No matter how hot the water or how hard you scrubbed, nothing could ease the tension buried deep within your distressed bones. Holding your belly securely and trying to feign peace at the fact that at least you still had your baby girl wasn't as helpful as it used to be. Obviously you were going to lose her no matter what. You just hadn't suspected that it would be like this.

And the unexpected actions of your hitman were no light sip of tea either.

Once you got out of the shower and dried your hair, you take a good, long look at yourself in the mirror and frown greatly. While the black shorts fit like a charm, the tank top was having a little more of a difficult time trying to hug your large belly. It would take a miracle of tears to get it to even drape past your belly button. You blushed heavily in humiliation and try to think about another shirt that you could wear in replace of this one, but the thought of angering your hitman turned the option away.

Gathering all the hidden confidence you could find, you splash some cold water on your hot cheeks and slowly make your way downstairs. The living room was dim and the TV was on. Unfortunately you feel your cheeks begin to burn in embarrassment as you feel your bare feet touch the soft carpet of the living room, jerking in startlement whenever Victor rose from the recliner wearing nothing other than a dark green tank-top and black, knee-length shorts.

Your eyes widened at the forbidden sight. Now you had witnessed Victor without his jacket before. You had even seen him without his shirt on, but never had he ever lacked his long jeans or work boots. Seeing him this exposed almost felt like a crime or some kind of high classed, world phenomenon. And when he stopped right in front of you, you had to forcefully pull yourself back into reality to be able to blink your shock away and give him a proper greeting.

"I-I don't think it fits, I-erm... My belly is too big," You gaze away bashfully and hold the sides of your half exposed stomach, cheeks dark red as you timidly admit, "I like it, but... I feel silly."

As you expected the large mutant to respond in either silence or with some small, casual comment, you ended up gasping in alarm whenever two large hands moved over the expanse of your large belly. Your eyes widened and your feet shuffled as you stare up at his quickly approaching eyes. Breath cut short, you gasp one last time as Victor's large hands moved to the back of your head and waist before pressing your lips together.

Your world felt as if it had stopped moving. Colors in your eyes grew brighter as you stared like a surprised owl at the man's focused face. Your limbs grew faint and stiff at the same time, goosebumps decorating your body as Victor's long stubble gently scraped your chin and cheeks. Your lips were caught gaped and wobbly, and were now stilled between the devine softness of his own. The surprise that had solidified your veins was now melting away into undignified lust and confused bliss.

What was happening? And why did it feel so good when it was obviously so wrong?

You close your eyes and whimper as his lips sucked gently on your lower one, fangs grazing your delicate skin in the slightest bit that made you shudder hard in anticipation. Your hands trembled as you hesitantly place them against his thick chest, unsure of where else to place them as he separated from your lips with a crisp wet noise and immediately nudged his way into the area between your shoulder and neck.

"Victor..." You breathed sharply, eyes clenching shut as you gasped at feeling his warm tongue lav thoroughly along your sensitive collar bone. His hands moved further around you, trapping you securely against him like a treasured artifact as he slowly licked up the base of your neck, the small prick of his fangs sending a shot of fear and other strong emotions through you, and you were twisting hand fulls of his shirt knuckle white tight in your palms and crying out, "Victor!"

Victor growled. It was unlike anything you had heard or felt before. The innards of his chest vibrated along with his lips as he sucked wetly and tightly on the highly sensitive skin of your neck. You gasped and whimpered, body now completely vulnerable to the shaking from fear and twisted heat pooling inside certain areas of your chest and abdomen. Fangs nibbled softly on your neck before being followed by a brisk, thorough tongue that massaged the hotly agitated area, lips pulling off with a wet pop.

"Fuck," Victor ground out and kissed the other side of your neck, his hips pressing forward into yours as he pulled your chin up to look at him.

You were panting, your body a visible mess from being victim to his sudden torment. Sweat had bathed you as well as other wetnesses that couldn't entirely be controlled, and as you feel his hard intentions pressing tight against your abdomen and see the way his nostrils flare in realization, you knew there was no hiding it. What he was doing was all kinds of unexpected and confusing and surprising, but not necessarily unwelcomed.

Victor stared down at your dark red cheeks, wide eyes and clammy skin, nose flexing as he breathed in the strong, undeniable scent of your sweat and arousal. The little sounds you made, the whimpers, gasps and timid moans were like a shot of adrenalin that filled his veins with pumping madness for more. "I ain't gonna kill ya," He breathed harshly to himself and pulled you close to his chest, "Nah, I ain't killin' ya... I'm keepin' ya... You're mine."

You feel your entire body freeze in overwhelming thought, eyes wide and staring at the mutant as he tilted your chin up before pressing your lips back together. "Mine..."

XoxoxoxThe EndxoxoxoX


End file.
